Breaking the Rules
by pagerunner
Summary: After a fateful morning encounter, Anders and Karl meet again to see if there's anything to that impulsive kiss they shared. Turns out there might be a little more than they bargained for. Follows on from Spell Shocked, also posted here.


"So I've been thinking," Karl heard, the instant he walked in the door.

It was well towards nighttime, hours after his encounter with Anders in this very same storage room. He'd spent most of the day since then distracted and impatient, thinking about his fellow mage. He'd known Anders a little before this, but not well; it was just enough to get the idea about his impulsiveness, his rebelliousness, the solid sense of right and wrong that hid under layers of deflective humor and a tendency to run laughing rather than fight. Stories about his escapes were already legendary. But he'd never really gotten a chance to speak with Anders much, aside from that conversation this morning that had ended with...

...well, with not much talking at all, as it turned out.

The thought of that intimate moment had haunted him the most all day. Now that he was facing Anders again, though, he understood the other man's nervous tension. He felt a certain amount of it himself. No matter how many times his friends had suggested picking a pretty girl - or boy, as it turned out - and having a good harmless fling to clear his head, it didn't feel right to be so careless about it. _What_ are _we doing here,_ Karl wondered, _planning an assignation like this so fast?_

He didn't stop himself, though, from stepping in to ask, "What is it?" And he waited there, watching Anders lick his lips. It wasn't just that the view was pleasantly distracting. He also wanted to know what was on Anders' mind, especially if it was enough to give such a gleefully reckless person pause.

"I've been thinking," Anders repeated. He ran a hand back through his hair, catching his fingers in the ponytail and then tugging them loose in annoyance. "I know we planned to, um, meet in here, but I wondered if..."

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts," Karl murmured. Anders swallowed and shook his head.

"No. I still showed up, didn't I? But I'm feeling... cooped up in here."

Anders gestured at the shelving. Karl had to admit he had a point. They were standing in a storage room, one used by the mages to store medical supplies, and it was well crowded with cupboards and cabinets. The advantage right now was its privacy, but there wasn't a lot of room to move, and Anders looked like he very much wanted to.

"If we _could,_ I'd say we go out to get some air," Anders said, a little bitterly. "But since that's off the table..."

"Did you want to find another room? Walk somewhere first?"

Anders scrubbed his hands against his robes. "I had something in mind." The hint of a smile came back to his face. "If you're willing to indulge me for a little while."

"Oh, I think so," Karl said, noticing despite himself how Anders' nervous fidgeting had only drawn focus to his narrow hips.

"Then I do know a good spot to blow off some steam. One of the practice rooms on the twelfth floor. Doesn't get used much... too much of a hike."

"And what exactly do you do in there to… blow off steam?"

Anders, who'd evidently caught the whiff of double entendre, smirked in a way that made a slow, sneaky glow begin deep in Karl's belly. Still, what Anders said next wasn't quite what Karl expected:

"Want to go blow something up?"

The Circle Tower trained all sorts of mages: combat, healing, academic and experimental. Some spent most of their lives studying runes and potions and barely ever cast a large-scale spell; some trained so heavily with their staves that they might as well have been warriors outright, except with more frequent explosions. The practice room Anders had found seemed to be meant for the latter sort of mage. Fireproofed targets were braced against the walls on all sides, except where the weapons rack stood, and that held an assortment of basic staves, enchanted to various purposes. Anders quickly selected a lightning staff and invited Karl to pick his own.

Then as soon as the door was closed and bolted, he stepped into the center of the room, raised his staff and flashed a crack of electricity at the wall so bright that it made Karl's eyes sting.

"Come on," Anders called, laughing over the echoes of localized thunder. "Show me what you've got."

Karl didn't react for a minute. He was too busy staring.

They'd talked on the way up, he and Anders: talked at length about themselves and their histories, or at least as much as they could bear to share. Anders' past had sounded painful, and Karl didn't press him. So Anders dwelled more on the present day and his list of increasingly improbable escape attempts. By the end - and after seven stories of stairs, with more to go - Karl was breathless with laughing, not to mention the lack of air. Between that and not wanting to derail the mood, he'd kept his own story simple: the templars finding him at age nine, the quick discovery of his healing power. They'd used that from the start, pressing him into service during the return to Lake Calenhad after a templar broke his leg in an accident on the road. As he told Anders - to his cynical lack of surprise - they didn't even thank him.

Then he told Anders about how he came to be trained in the creation school, with a few excursions into spirit and the arcane. Not only had he shown obvious aptitude for it, but he enjoyed it, and the enchanters happily encouraged him.

What he didn't get into was his suspicion of why. Whether or not the templars had shown any gratitude, they knew his usefulness. The templars often tended to approve of skills such as healing that could be put to more benevolent uses, and they'd been known to nudge the enchanters one way or another to keep volatile mages on controllable tracks. He hadn't been much of a risk that way… but he could think of a few mages who were. The more he and Anders talked, the more he found himself thinking of their past encounters, and he was almost certain he'd overhead a conversation long ago where Anders had _asked_ to study more combat magic - and had been turned down.

Which was why Karl was blinking madly against the virulent flash of light from Anders' explosion and asking, "Where in Andraste's name did you learn _that?_"

"On my own, mostly," Anders said, twirling the staff and pointing it at a new target. The discharge cracked with remarkable precision, searing a deep hole into the boards. "I had the basics down, of course, and I watched the others, too. All those sparring sessions and duels, you know?"

Karl did. Apprentices tended to be set against each other in tests, in loosely controlled conditions. He'd always hated them, personally. Anders saw the look on his face, smiled and shrugged. "I listed to a lot of lectures I wasn't supposed to be hearing, too. I _can_ pay attention, despite what the senior enchanters say."

"You'd think _they_ would learn to pay better attention…."

Anders snorted and grinned. "Best for us that they don't." He lifted his weapon again. "And no, the templars have no idea I've spent this much time in here. It's none of _their_ business how I polish my staff, now is it?"

Again with the double entendres. Karl smiled crookedly. "What they don't know... well, _could_ hurt them, but that's beside the point-"

"Come on," Anders encouraged. "Show me something. I never get to do this with anyone else."

Karl considered the fire staff he'd selected, then aimed it at the still-smoking target Anders had used. With a concentrated effort of will, he sent out a sizeable fireball. As it whooshed into the wall and erupted, Anders let out a shout of approval.

"_That's_ more like it," he said. "Now. Outdo _this._"

They set to it, and soon the air was charged with smoke and light and the heady rush of power. Karl found himself breathless again - he was used to doing concentrated, deep-focused spells, not anything this wild - but there was something exhilarating about it, and soon enough he was laughing, shooting ever higher-powered spells across the room. Anders darted between the bolts, dangerously close sometimes, but then they _were_ both healers, after all...

And if Karl thought he was flinging magic around with more force than he might have imagined, he couldn't even get close to what Anders was doing.

Yes, some of the skills were basic: no elements in combination, for one thing, which was a sure sign of advanced training. But Maker's _breath_, Anders had power. The raw energy of it was palpable, and it just kept _coming_, issuing in spell after spell with seeming ease. Karl began to tire and go lightheaded far before Anders flagged, and even once he did, he had one final trick up his sleeve. "Get ready to duck!" Anders hollered, and tossed the practice staff far across the room.

Then, bare-handed, he flung a jolt of electricity at the staff that caught it in midair, set it shivering, and for an instant everything was incredibly bright - and the staff exploded in a shower of coruscating sparks. Karl shouted wordlessly and ducked like Anders had said, but Anders himself was laughing. "_Look_ at that," Anders exclaimed. "Hurry, it's fading-"

Karl rose from his crouch and unshielded his eyes, just in time. The light from the exploded staff was drifting down to the stones like a thousand falling stars. He reached out a hand on instinct, wanting to touch but not quite daring. He couldn't believe it. It was beautiful.

So, he thought fleetingly, was the mage responsible for it, who hadn't shielded himself from the electrical storm at all.

Then the fireworks were gone.

It was silent for a few seconds. Anders shook sparks from his fingers, laughing as if it tickled, then put his hands on his knees and bent over, breathing hard. Karl stood close in the crackling air. "You know what's funny," Anders said. "No one's figured out yet where all these staves keep disappearing to..."

Karl stared, then burst out laughing, too. Before long they were both sitting on the cold stone floor, leaning against each other and trying to catch their breath. Karl cast his own staff aside and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "I wonder... what their theories are..."

"Probably just that someone's stealing them. The templars - pretty dense." Anders' smile turned wry. He watched Karl for a while before he leaned back on the floor. There he waved one hand through the lingering haze in the air and studied the eddies. "But then you knew that."

Karl felt the mood in the room shift. He took in another deep breath, smelling sulfur and ozone. "They _can_ be pretty clever when it suits them," he said. Anders sniffed.

"Clever. Right. Usually when it comes to being sadistic." He made a sarcastic flip of his hand, sending light motes flying. "You know what I was saying about Mr. Wiggums and his bell collar?"

"Yes..."

"Think about that," Anders said wearily. "He was our _mouser._ He has to be able to sneak up on things. Can't do that with a bell on, so why put one on him? To drive him mad with frustration? Make him fail over and over, so they'd have something to laugh at?" Anders' expression went bitter. "It's just like the rest of us, collared and cornered..."

"I'm surprised you didn't get the collar off him."

"Oh, I did. More than once. One thing I'll give the templars, though: they are _persistent_ bastards."

Karl shook his head. Anders did too. "That kind of business is why I keep coming up here. Blowing off steam. Practicing. Dreaming of getting away..."

Karl looked up into the smoky, magic-saturated room, where everything still vibrated faintly. He thought that he wouldn't want to be the templar going after Anders if _this_ was what awaited him after an escape. No wonder they were afraid of what he might do...

But for now, Anders was only nudging Karl for attention with one foot and saying, "You just passed your Harrowing, didn't you? Why don't you go?"

"Leave the Tower, you mean?"

"Right. You're the well-behaved one, right?" Anders' voice was mildly sarcastic, but not unkind. "I bet you could petition for almost any job out there. So why not? The templars would listen to you."

Karl went quiet. He'd been thinking of almost nothing _but_ for the last few weeks, but it was a pale sort of freedom, leaving that way. He might get a position as some court healer or be assigned to Ferelden's army, or maybe be a teacher, that sort of thing, but he'd also be alone: no other mages to work with, no one who even understood. If he wanted to experiment with anything, he'd have to do it all in secret, lest someone misunderstand and get suspicious. And always, always there would be templars nearby, watching everything he did, ready to jump and haul him back in chains if he so much as slipped….

Besides, there were other issues at hand, like what he'd just walked into here. Other people. He hesitated.

"It's possible," he said slowly. Anders sat up again, watching Karl. "But it's like you said… if I can get the templars to listen to me, perhaps it's best I stay here. Confront them where they're doing the most damage."

Anders thought about that. "Maybe," he said after a while. "Still, it's like bashing your head through a stone wall trying to get through to them."

"On occasion," Karl agreed wryly. "That occasion being five times a day."

Anders shook his head, grimaced and asked, "I understand what you're trying to do, but how can you _stand_ it here, Karl? How does anyone? I actually used to try, not that anyone would believe it of me now, but… Andraste's tits, I just want _out._ Doesn't it get to you?"

Karl thought of all the times he'd fairly drowned himself in study, not coming up for days - or all the things he'd tried to resist, like the illicit potions and assorted addictions so many mages picked up to try to find some relief. He'd had a bad spell or two - so to speak - but those were years behind him. Mostly, he just tried not to think about it.

And he hadn't indulged much in finding release with other people, not like some people here did so freely, but… well, here he was, right on the brink of it. He looked at Anders, considering with a brief flash of apprehension how much younger the other man was. He couldn't be much more than sixteen or seventeen, and it wasn't a _ridiculous_ age gap, but-

Karl breathed deep. He'd let it come this far; he wanted to see it through, and if nothing else, Anders deserved an answer. He raked a hand back through his hair and tried. "Sometimes the magic itself is enough to get me through. Sometimes it's other people. Working with them, I mean. Doing worthwhile things. Not being alone."

"And sometimes it's both?"

"Yes."

"In that case," Anders said with a twitch of his lips, "I supplied the magic already…."

Karl looked down at their hands, which were almost touching. The faintest signs of light were starting to glow around his own. He lifted one, letting Anders see the flicker. "So did I," Karl said.

"Then… about the other part?" Anders paused. "Not being alone?"

Yes, he thought. _That._

They'd been dancing around that topic all night. It was good that they'd talked, really - he would have felt like he was taking advantage otherwise - but the spark that set all this off today still burned, and the longer Anders looked at him like that, the harder it was to resist the impulses. The signs were already clear enough on his skin: that magic tingling there, wanting an outlet, wanting to touch.

So after a while, he made up his mind. He raised his hand and let his thumb brush Anders' lips. Warmth ebbed out to caress Anders' skin as Karl's curled fingers nudged his chin up for a better look.

What he found made him shiver with anticipation. Anders had gasped, angling his head as if to seek out more contact. He whispered something, just a word or two; Karl couldn't hear it but it felt like an impassioned oath. Then he met Karl's eyes again. "Tease," he said roughly.

Karl's own breath had gone just as hoarse. He stared back, seeing a rush of emotions steal though his friend's body. Nervousness. Restless energy.

Desire.

"Is this what you want?" Karl whispered, hoping he already knew the answer.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long to find out.

...

In the moments after that question, Anders found himself considering the one rule at this tower he was actually good at following.

The most important rule mages had here was never making any emotional attachments you couldn't afford to lose. _Something_ would inevitably happen: you'd get found out, or the other person would disappear for one reason or other, or he'd run away himself and so there would be no point. Deep friendships were enough of a risk. Falling in love: absolutely forbidden. Everyone in the Circle knew this, and having lost as much as he already had, Anders tended to agree with them for once.

This rule did not necessarily apply to casual sex, but Anders hadn't taken that too far, either, although that wasn't entirely by choice.

Oh, he'd gotten up to plenty with the girls he'd flirted with - lots of kissing and adventurous groping, and one encounter with Carine that proved she actually _could_ make you come from ten feet away without lifting a finger, which made for a very interesting unplanned interlude in class before Ser Niall hauled him away for the indecent disruption. But none of those quite counted as being… complete. He'd been caught once in the attempt, making him and Ilene run for it half-dressed down opposite hallways, and he missed the next meeting with her after getting locked up by the templars for another transgression entirely. By the time he got out days later, she'd turned to someone else. Disappointed, he'd pursued other girls himself, but those didn't get far; disabusing everyone of their assumptions to the contrary would have been embarrassing. Besides, there was still some deep-buried part of him with more romantic ideas that didn't _want_ it to work this way, all in a breathless rush and plagued with the worry of getting caught again, punished again, on and on without end. So he talked a good game, and there were certain things he was _very_ skilled at by now, but - much like everything else in his life - he had a habit of running before things could go wrong.

None of that explained why he'd buried his fingers in Karl's hair, tugged him close and was kissing him like his life depended on it, and why he didn't - oh, _Maker_ - want to stop.

The kiss had begun hard and fast, perhaps from nerves, but he wanted to go deeper. Anders leaned into it, encouraging Karl's lips to part; when Karl's tongue stroked inside, Anders swiftly returned the favor. The rasp of Karl's short-trimmed beard made him gasp - it was impossible not to realize how different this was with another man - but he didn't stop, and the flare of arousal in his own body only grew, warming him, tensing him, making him press even closer. He wanted this. Against all expectation, he _desperately_ wanted this.

And if the templars managed to interrupt _this_ somehow, he thought, he was liable to turn rage demon and kill them himself.

"Anders," Karl breathed, after Anders began fumbling for the clasps of Karl's robe. If he was getting this far into things, he wanted to _see_, wanted to know every plane of Karl's body and understand exactly what he was in for. He wanted to touch him, slowly, everywhere. The mere idea made him go hot all over. "Anders-"

Anders silenced him with another kiss, sliding his hands under Karl's robe as he did so. He only stopped when he had to pull the fabric over Karl's head, rumpling it and tossing it aside. Anders stared at what was revealed - firm muscles and dark hair across a hard, flat chest, with another, intriguing line trailing down from his navel to the unmistakable bulge in his smallclothes. Oh, Maker. Oh, _Maker._ "Karl," he said hoarsely, trying to voice the desires and half-formed ideas that were tumbling over each other in his head. "I… think I want…."

The hesitation made Karl ask a quiet, level question. "You haven't done this before, have you? Not like this."

Anders couldn't make himself say it, but he shook his head once. _At least you have an excuse for _this_ to be new,_ he thought. _He doesn't look surprised._ In fact, Karl only guided Anders' hand to his chest, letting Anders feel _his_ hammering heartbeat this time. "You're doing perfectly well so far," he said.

Anders could feel that pulse as if it beat all the way through him, making something within him echo it with impatient intensity. _Make your move,_ he thought. _It's time._ "I want to touch you," he said at last.

A shudder of incipient pleasure ran through Karl's entire body. He nodded slowly, and let his fingers uncurl.

Anders took the hint and began to move.

Soon Karl was gasping, reacting to every little caress - Anders' fingers across his nipple, down his torso, sliding with ticklish lightness down his side and then stroking firmly, with greater confidence. Anders drew his hand lower, feeling Karl's muscles tremble. He could also see Karl's erection pushing harder against the fabric. Slowly, before he pulled the smallclothes down, he slid his hand over it, feeling the heat and the throb of blood and how Karl's hips jolted up, his control slipping. Then he slipped his hand inside against Karl's flesh and pulled him free.

It was so strange to touch him like this - familiar, but not, making him blush and his own cock ache for touch. He couldn't help but compare, either, but soon that wasn't the important thing. He just shut his eyes and leaned close to Karl until their foreheads rested against each other, Karl's hot breath brushing against his own lips. Soon his slow strokes were answered by kisses, soft and intense and punctuated by whispers for more. Something about it made Anders look at last into the shadowed space between them. The intimacy of seing Karl push up into his hand like this, hard and flushed and wanting, flooded him with such nervous energy that power came unbidden to his hands, sparking out over Karl's skin. He gasped when Karl shouted out, afraid he'd hurt him, but Karl held on - held on and shook and thrust up harder, crying out as he came. Anders watched in wordless shock, feeling it on his hands and realizing _I did this - Maker, I did this_, in a strange mingling of disbelief, satisfaction and longing for more.

"Are you all right?" he asked, feeling foolish even as the words left his lips; still, he had to say _something_. And Karl laughed, sounding just as overwhelmed about it as Anders felt. His whole body was still trembling. Anders gingerly let go of him and took him by the shoulders instead, watching as Karl's eyes focused warmly on him.

"All right," he echoed. "Maker's _breath_, Anders, do you know how good that felt?"

"You mean the magic?" He didn't entirely mean to admit it - under other circumstances he would have been happy to take the credit - but he said it anyway: "That was… kind of an accident…."

"Not just that," Karl murmured, and Anders shivered. His own erection twitched at the tone of Karl's voice. "Everything."

"Oh…."

"Here," Karl said, tugging lightly at Anders' robes. "Your turn."

Anders swallowed hard and undid the robes. He could feel Karl's eyes on him, hear a faint sound of appreciation, and then there was the air on his skin, still tingling from the overcharge of magic. He broke out in goosebumps all over as his robes fell behind him. "After the kind of compliments you're throwing around," he said with a bravado he didn't entirely feel, "you've got a lot to live up to…."

"Oh, I'll try," Karl said with a smile. "Lie back."

Karl had reached for his discarded robe again, and with some difficulty - his hands weren't steady yet - he folded it up for a makeshift pillow. Between that and Anders' own robe, he had some barrier against the hard stone floor. Anders thought ruefully that he should have picked a better spot, at least someplace with a _chair,_ but Karl didn't seem to mind it as he knelt above him. Anders' breath quickened as Karl's fingers brushed his thighs, his hips, started easing down his sorely strained smallclothes, and there was another sound of appreciation then, followed by a pause that made his head spin. He wasn't entirely sure what Karl was planning. He had some idea of the mechanics of sex between men, and some of it admittedly seemed unlikely with Karl so recently spent, but as often as mages joked about stamina spells, who knew-

Whatever happened, he decided he wanted one thing first. He reached up and interrupted Karl's evident train of thought, pulling the other man to him. And instead of just holding on this time, he kissed him deeply - and let himself move.

It had been good before, but to feel him like this, skin to skin… the pleasure that broke over him was staggering. Every inch of friction felt _so good._ Maybe the magic in the air helped; he couldn't be certain, but either way, he felt heat lance through him so sharply it almost hurt. He moaned into Karl's mouth, rocking his hips up for as much contact as he could get. Karl didn't hesitate to answer in kind. They kept sliding, touching everywhere, and the feeling was so intense that when Karl had to prop himself up for a gasp of air, Anders found himself whispering something else he hadn't intended:

"Oh, Maker's breath, we're in trouble," Anders breathed.

"I know," Karl said.

And before Anders could ask about his strange, almost sad expression, Karl began moving down Anders' body, putting his mouth to other, blindingly pleasurable purposes. Anders came hard down Karl's throat some moments later, shouting his own hoarse, while the world swirled incomprensibly above him. Magic, he thought, dazedly following the eddies in the air again. And something more.

He wished he dared find out what it truly was.

They left some time later, once the shockwaves had faded and they'd more or less straightened themselves out - limbs obeying, clothes in place, and some of the signs of what they'd been up to cleaned away. Still, it was a mercy that they didn't see anyone in the halls outside. _Someone_ would have noticed. Anders felt different and a little bit strange, and even if he managed to present himself immaculately, he was sure it would show in his eyes.

He'd never expected _this_ from this day, and he couldn't help but feel like everything had changed.

He kept quiet, though, until it came time for a hesitant goodbye. Both Anders and Karl said they should meet again, but this time neither of them mentioned a specific time or place. If it was meant to happen, it would, Anders supposed. Against all reason he hoped so.

Against all reason, he almost didn't let go when Karl kissed him goodnight.

_It really shouldn't have to happen like this,_ he thought as he left Karl's company - it physically hurt to do it - and retreated to his narrow bed, which at once looked terribly lonely and far too close to everyone else. There were just too many people all on top of each other here, he thought bitterly, watching everything you did. But he crawled in anyway, where he shivered and twitched restlessly, unable to settle. _Why can't we choose freely, not have to hide, be able to decide what's right for us on our own…?_

It wouldn't happen inside the Circle, he knew that much. It wouldn't even happen if you left officially, like he'd asked Karl about doing. There would be too many eyes on you even then, too many restrictions. He wished fleetingly that he could convince Karl to run with him. _So much for staying detached,_ he thought wryly. _Oh, Maker._

Still, there was another thought that came to him in the half-awake hours: maybe someday if he was lucky, he could run for good, find Karl out there in the world whatever he might be doing, and spirit him away. Definitely easier than a two-person breakout, and infinitely more likely than Anders ever being the one to leave with anything resembling permission. He almost laughed at the mental image - he knew even entertaining this much of the idea was absurd - but he couldn't help but wish it nonetheless.

He wondered if Karl might ever feel the same.

But with that, he had to stop. With a punch of the pillow and a forcible turn into his usual sleeping position, Anders settled in and shut his eyes, hoping he'd get _some_ rest before the night was through. The templars would come in the morning soon enough.

With any luck, at least for the rest of the night he could hold on to the dream.


End file.
